


Living for the Moment

by heeroluva



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, First Time, Introspection, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders muses about the past, enjoys the present, and tries to ignore the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living for the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Act I and II (no endgame spoilers)
> 
> I reference one scene and use dialogue from two others (some of it is take verbatim, while some is modified/added).

Anders didn’t trust the strange warrior at first, thinking him a guard or at worst a templar. While his fears were quickly overcome seeing that the man’s sister was an apostate, he couldn’t let go of his suspicion. He’d been betrayed far too often by those he’d considered friends and camaraderie to simply let himself be set up to be burned again. But the man – Hawke, as he preferred to be called – proved himself a sound companion, and ultimately a surprisingly good friend as their days working together gave way to months then years.

This was the longest Anders had ever stayed in one place since he was a child in the Circle before he taken to regularly escaping. The irony over the fact that the city he chose to settle in housed its own Circle was not lost to him. The very thing he’d run from so many times only to be drug back again and again should have been too close for comfort. And it was, but the difference was that now he no longer feared them. He would die before he let them take him again. He was no longer their pawn. He was his own man, as much as he could be with what he’d become.

As much as he was grateful that it never happened, he never understood why they never made him Tranquil. By all rights they should have done it the first time they’d dragged him back kicking and screaming. He’d expected it, and he’d fought, berated the templars, tried to get them angry enough to kill him because as much as he didn’t want to die, being made one of the Tranquil was a fate worse than death. Though the templars hadn’t been into the whole forgive and forget thing. It was more along the lines of torture and maim. It wasn’t until the third time he escaped that he realized that it was a sort of game for them. He was their plaything to test out new _interrogation techniques_.

Heh, he snorted. As if. More like they had just been bored and sadistic and wanted someone to torture, someone that no one would believe if he’d actually had the desire to tell anyone. But he’d known they were right, no one would have believed him. If he had even spoken up against the templars the mages that had once been his friends would turn him in. There had been no one for him, and that just increased his hatred of the templars, the injustice that they personified.

His conscription into the Grey Wardens by the Warden-Commander had been the first good thing that had happened in his life, and for a brief time he’d had true friends – or so he’d thought – and didn’t have to run. Well at least not from templars. There had been plenty of running in his time with the Grey Wardens, but it had tended to be _towards_ the Darkspawn and other threats rather than away.

However, Anders had gotten complacent, forgotten that not all the Wardens or their friends agreed with what he was, and it had just taken one slip up in front of the wrong person, one stupid moment to forget about the former templars – not that they ever truly stopped being what they were – that would never accept him, never accept _them_. He didn’t let himself think of it often, still had nightmares that he woke up screaming from. But the bodies of those that had turned on him, both friends and strangers, had been enemies in his mind’s eye as Justice struck them all down.

No. As _he_ struck them all down. They were one and the same. He could not deny his own fault in their deaths. It was his body led by his choices. Friends had died at his hands. And he’d run, hopping on the first ship leaving. The destination hadn’t mattered as long as it was far away. Sadly he could not outrun himself.

Before Hawke, Anders had begun to fear himself, fear what he _had done_ and could do again, fear what he was becoming, and fear losing control to Justice, a being that had been his true friend. He thought bitterly of the irony that was his life, a slave to the situation, how a selfless act had gone wrong and twisted into something abominable by his hatred of the Circle, the templars, and what they represented. Though looking back, he realized that the act had been anything but selfless. However with Hawke, there was just something about him that, some sort of steadfast steel that was hidden behind his sarcastic exterior that Anders felt compelled to comply with even when he was lost in the rage of vengeance that left him blind to all else.

When Anders had lost control so totally while Hawke risked everything sneaking into the Gallows with him, he’d thought himself truly lost as his deadly rage had been directed to the horrified mage after the deaths of the templars. She’d called him a demon, and in that instance as he was seconds away from striking her down without a moment’s remorse, he had been. If not for Hawke’s words of reason, even as the mage begged for her life, he would have killed her, an innocent woman who had done nothing wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time, one of the unjustly prosecuted that he had wished to free.

Hawke’s words had reached through his fog of blind vengeance and found a part of him that was sickened by his actions. Wrestled against his baser instincts, Anders had managed to bring himself back under control. Truly horrified by what he had almost done, he’d barely been able to meet Hawke’s eyes before he’d run off, not willing to stay and see the condemnation that his friend was sure to show him after such an event. While Anders knew that Hawke was a friend to mages, he knew the man was no friends to demons.

And that was what he was, there was no more denying it now. No more calling it pretty names to hide behind. He knew what he was. He laughed hollowly at this twist of fate, how he’d openly embraced the one thing that he’d said he’d never be. Oh how the mighty had fallen. He wanted to run, leave the city behind forever, but he couldn’t. There was too much at stake still. It would be painful to stay, but he couldn’t live with himself if he left it all behind.

To say he was shocked did not begin to explain the disbelief he felt when Hawke turned up alone at his make shift clinic the next day as he was setting out milk for a cat that would never return. He wondered if this was it, if this was how it would end. But there was no disapproval, no hate or fear or pity in his eyes. Instead they were filled with honest concern and compassion. The flirting was overt and so obviously Hawke that he’d almost wept in relief.

But the flirting was also painful to receive. He’d given up any hope of having that in his life after he’d joined with Justice, both the physical that he’d missed over the years and the mental that he’d never allowed himself to indulge in. But with Hawke, he couldn’t help himself, cursed himself an idiot when he realized that he felt more than just lust for his friend. The fact that Hawke was a man didn’t matter. He’d never allowed himself to be limited by shape or form in the matters of sex. When one was confined to the Circle Tower, boredom ran rampant, and it only took so long to realize that sex in all of its wondrous forms was a wonderful ways to battle it. But most learned quickly the folly of falling in love. It was just another way for the templars to control them. No, love had never been an issue. Until now.

No, the problem was who he was and who Hawke was. If Anders hadn’t been a mage it would have been so much simpler. But he was, and nothing was going to change that. The danger that Hawke would face if it came out that he was in a relationship with not only an apostate, but a maleficar, not through the use of blood magic which he abhorred above all else, but rather due to the spirit that had merged with him, should have been enough to deter him. However, Hawke was too stubborn to fear it, always fighting for what he believed in. And he believed in Anders. That fact both awed and scared him.

Anders knew that there was no way to remove Justice from him, knowing that they were too closely intertwined now to be considered two separate entities. But they were not completely one. There were still instances in which Anders would have a thought and realize it wasn’t his own, and that scared him. It had been years now, and still he did not know the full effect of it.

Hawke’s death was the least of Anders’ worries. No, the templars would do so much worse to him. Anders had seen it many times, and he couldn’t bear to think of it happening to Hawke. He knew that Hawke was interested, had been interested for some time. He’d have to be blind to see the appreciative looks that Hawke often sent his way.

There were no words to express his gratitude, but he tried anyway. Then the admission that escaped him wasn’t planned, but he didn’t regret it. “You’ve seen what I am. But I’m still a man. Don’t expect me to resist forever.”

“I don’t want you to resist.”

Hawke’s response set his heart racing, and for once Anders didn’t deny himself. Two quick steps forward and he closed the space between them. With a sense of desperate urgency previously unknown to him, Anders cupped one cheek and slid the other around to the nape of Hawke’s neck, tilting his head and pulling him close for the kiss that he’d been wanting for years.

The pressure of their lips against each other’s wasn’t enough, and they both pushed closer. But Anders knew that this wasn’t the time or the place and reluctantly drew back, panting. Briefly sliding his nose along Hawke’s neck he breathed in the warrior’s deep, musky scent before reluctantly pulling away completely. It wasn’t a soft kiss, nor was it a long one, but it changed everything.

He gave a small smile of happy satisfaction as he noted that Hawke was similarly affected by the kiss if his flushed cheeks and quickened breath was anything to go by. “If we could die tomorrow, I didn't want it to be without doing that.” It was a sappy sentiment Anders knew, but Hawke’s response was worth it.

"I've never felt this way about anyone."

Anders didn’t know whether to be elated or sorrowful. "I thought with Justice... this part of me was over. I can't give you a normal life. If you're with me, we'll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us. If your door is open tonight, I will come to you. If not, I'll know you took my warning at last."

Hawke leaned forward to give him another kiss, but Anders raised his hand, halting his movement. “No. Save it for tonight if you decide this is worth the risk.”

Hawke’s face went serious and for a split second Anders feared that Hawke would end it then and there. But then Hawke’s expression softened and the look that he sent Anders set his heart racing before Hawke nodded and turned without another word. Anders knew that he’d at least think on it.

The rest of the day was torture as a squirming ball of apprehension settled heavy in his stomach, threatening to make him sick. After the sun finally set, and he walked through the darkened streets careful to avoid the guards, templars, and the unsavory types that lurked in the shadows, he made his way sedately towards Hawke’s estate, both fearful and hopeful of what he would find there. Would his door be open? If not, what would he do? Could he go through with this? Did he deserve this? Was it selfish to desire and seek out happiness, knowing that he was possibly dooming the one he loved?

Yes, love. He could admit it now. There was no going back from this.

Finally coming upon Hawke’s family estate, he paused at the door before hesitantly reaching for the handle. He let his hand rest there for a moment while he steeled himself for the possibility that Hawke had changed his mind. Lifting the latch, he let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as the door slid open soundlessly. Closing it and locking it behind him, his eyes zeroed in on the glow coming from the open doorway above, the door that led to Hawke’s room.

The rest of the house was quiet and dark, causing Anders to wonder if the rest of its inhabitants were sleeping or if Hawke had found a reason to have the house to himself. He didn’t allow himself to run up the stairs as he wished to do, forcing himself to take them slowly. Finally reaching Hawke’s door, his breath caught as he took in Hawke’s form, illuminated by the roaring fire in the massive fireplace. Anders could count the number of times that he’d seen Hawke out of his armor on one hand, and it never ceased to amaze him. So often plate could be deceptive, making a person seem bigger than the really were, but he was a big man even without. Anders wasn’t small himself, taller than most, even Hawke, but he didn’t have the muscles that the warrior had, and those made all the difference.

Walking into the room, Hawked turned, finally sensing him. “You’re here,” he stated as though surprised. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“And I wasn’t sure if you’d have me, so we’re even.” He paused a moment, unsure if he wanted to make this admission, but knew he couldn’t enter into this without being completely truthful. “Justice does not approve of my obsession with you. He believes you're a distraction. It's one of the few things on which he and I disagree.”

Hawke grinned faintly. “Obsession, am I?”

Swallowing thickly, Anders nodded. “From the moment I realized you weren’t a threat, I wanted you.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one. If you hadn't come, I'd be out looking for you.”

“When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was someone you couldn't stand to lose.” He looked away suddenly bashful. It was one thing to admit it to himself, and another to admit it aloud to Hawke. “It would kill me to lose you. “

Hawke stepped forward, closing the remaining space between them. “You aren’t going to lose me.”

Cupping Hawke’s face in his hand, Anders still couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love.” Leaning forward, he finally looked up under his lashes, watching as Hawke did the same. Reaching up he cupped Hawke’s cheek rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “This is the rule I’ll most cherish breaking,” he murmured right before their lips met.

Their faces seem to just fit together, a seamless alignment of mouths and noses and cheeks as their lips brushed softly together. Hawke opened his mouth with a soft sigh, fingers greedily grabbing at Anders’ biceps, digging in deep as though he was afraid that Anders would disappear at any moment. Pressing closer together the heat built between them. Slipping his tongue past Hawke’s parted lips, Anders brushed against his before twirling them together. Hawke sighed in pleasure before pulling away, causing Anders to moan softly and try to follow.

Hawke slid his hand down Anders’ arm, clasping their hands together, while giving him a heated look as he backed towards the bed, pulling Anders along with him. As his knees hit the edge of the bed, he scooted up the bed before laying back, shooting Anders an inviting look.

Anders didn’t waste any time and crawled on top of the breathtaking sight before him. He couldn’t believe they were actually here, doing this. Finally. As Anders’ lips met Hawke’s he sank down over him, planting one thigh between Hawke’s own, he stopped thinking as he felt the heat of Hawke’s desire against him.

The world’s problems shrank away and all that mattered was what was happening now, just the two of them. Anders didn’t let his hands explored as he ached to do. They were both too hot for that, had waited far too long for this to even consider prolonging it. No, there would be no teasing this time. There would be plenty of time for that later. The night was long.

Anders almost shouted as Hawke lost his patience and grabbed his ass pulling him closer and aligned there lengths. The cloth between them was torture against his sensitive flesh and he wanted to feel Hawke skin to skin, wanted to see what this delicious warrior looked like without the cover of clothes.

With a curse Anders shoved Hawke’s shirt up to bunch under his arms, too impatient to remove it properly and scraped his hands across the skin that he revealed, leaving bright red marks behind. In apology he sank down and laved the marks, nipping lightly at one peaked nipple that was too tempting to pass up. Hawke bucked and shouted out in surprised pleasure. Anders grinned at the reaction, doing it again, before sinking down farther, filing that information away for later use. He would have great fun with that. So often men did not consider their nipples as erogenous zones. Anders was all too happy to teach them.

And teach Hawke he would. He knew that the warrior was no virgin, no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, having seen him partake in numerous affairs over the years. But never anything lasting, nothing meaningful. But Anders had never seen him with a man. The dance that they’d been doing with each other was another hint at Hawke’s lack of experience when it came to men. Anders normally didn’t go for virgins as they tended to be too much of a hassle, but he’d make an exception here for Hawke. This would be different than anything he’d done before. It meant something more than just the pleasure of the meeting of flesh, was more than just a one off thing.

Finally reaching his destination, Anders briefly curled his fingers under the front of the Hawke’s pants, stroking the heated skin he felt there before getting impatient and shoving them down out of his way. The musky scent that was all Hawke and sex surrounded him, and Hawke’s impressive cock sprang free. Wrapping his fist around it, Anders pulled his foreskin down tight, causing Hawke’s hands to find purchase on his shoulders, digging in with a desperate need to stay grounded as he groaned in pleasure at the touch.

Anders took pity in him, and after laying a soft his on the head, he sucked him in, swirling his tongue over the crown before taking him deeper. Feeling Hawke’s hips twist, he placed his hand on his stomach, not so much holding Hawke in place as asking him to keep still. As he began a slow rhythm Hawke’s fingers sank into his hair, freeing it of its normal confines.

“Maker’s breath,” Hawke hissed. “I’ve wanted to touch your hair for ages.”

Humming in contentment, Anders let the salty taste of Hawke’s cock fill him as he was urged to take more of him deeper into his mouth. Anders was uncomfortably hard in his leggings, and the needy sounds that escaped Hawke’s mouth just made it even worse. Pulling back, he traced the underside of Hawke’s erection with his tongue before sinking back down, taking him even deeper still as his head bobbed over the length. One hand wandered down, cupping the Hawke’s balls before tugging lightly on them.

Hawke cried out, and Anders knew that he was close as he felt the muscles tremble and strain beneath his hand as Hawke fought not to thrust up in the warm heat surround him. Changing pace, Anders took him fast and deep, pressing down as Hawke instinctively tried to thrust. As the head met the back of his throat, Anders swallowed around it taking him deeper still, and suddenly Hawke was cumming, long and hard, and abundantly. As the first pulse hit the back of his throat, Anders moaned while Hawke’s fingers tugged painfully at his hair, so aroused that the pain twisted into pleasure that caused him to follow Hawke over the edge without being touched .

As the pleasure washed over him, Hawke’s cock slide out of his mouth and the last few pulses of cum painted his face.

Seeing this, Hawke’s cock twitched feebly trying to cum again, but it was too soon. Pulling Anders up, he claimed his mouth in a hard kiss tasting himself as one hand slid down to feel Anders’ cock for the first time. Feeling the wet patch there, his nostrils flared and his eyes dilated widely as a deep blush slowly spread across Anders’ features.

Hawke leaned in for another kiss, leaving them both breathless when they pulled away. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Hawke stole another kiss before stopping and tugging on Anders’ top. “Let’s get out of these,” he murmured while fumbling unsuccessfully with the garments unfamiliar fastenings.

Anders impatiently brushed his hands out of the way and made quick work of them himself. Getting the message Hawke followed his example, tugging the shirt over his head, and shimmying out of his pants, tossing them to the floor before sprawling back to watch Anders remove his intricate clothing. As inch after inch of Anders’ body was revealed to him, his cock stirred to life with renewed interest against his thigh. As the last piece of clothing feel away, Hawke’s mouth went dry and the magnificent sight before him. Pulling Anders down on top of him, he rolled them so that he was the one on top and settled between his thighs. They both moaned as their cocks pressed together.

Seeing Anders like this, so relaxed and open, made something deep in Hawke’s chest loosen. That Anders would leave himself so vulnerable to anyone was a gift that he’d never imagined, but it was one to cherish. And cherish it he did as Anders got impatient and squirmed beneath him, reaching up to tweak his nipples. After all, the night was still young.

 

Waking up sometime later, Anders was disappointed to find himself alone in the massive bed, but taking a look around and noticing Hawke's naked form standing in front of the fireplace, illuminated by its glow, Anders quickly got over it. Pushing down the covers, Anders stood and padded softly across the floor, bare feet making no sound on the dense rug. Wrapping his arms around Hawke’s waist he was pleased to note that the warrior didn’t jump, but instead leaned back into him and laid his arms on top of his, twining their fingers together.

“If I’d been an assassin, you’d be dead,” Anders stated.

“If you’d been an assassin, I’d have died a happy man,” Hawke replied, a grin in his voice.

Anders laid a kiss on Hawke’s shoulder before whispering in his ear, “I love you.” There he finally said it directly. It wasn’t so hard. “I've been holding back from saying that.” Still he could not help but have misgivings, hating the danger that his very presence meant for Hawke. “You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future. But I’m selfish and don’t ever want to leave you.”

Hawke turned in the circle of Anders’ arms. “Then don't ever leave.”

A startled smile crossed Anders’ face. “Do you mean that? Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the knight-commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand beside him?”

“I want you right here, Anders. Until the day we die. I don’t care if it’s selfish. I love you.”

“For three years, I have lain awake every night, aching for you. I’m still terrified I’ll wake up.”

“Well maybe I’ll just have to prove to you how awake you are until you finally believe it,” Hawke murmured before leaning in for another kiss to show him just how awake he was, a state that he intended to keep Anders in for the rest of the night.

Anders eagerly returned the kiss, walking backwards towards the bed, but a niggling voice wouldn’t shut up about the fact that while things were wonderful now they could easily take a turn for the worst in the future. But Anders told the voice to shut up; he didn’t care about that now. For once, he just wanted to live in the moment and be happy with what he had.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if you see any. As always feedback is appreciated.


End file.
